Jerzy Surma

In 1697 King Jan III of Poland died. Attempts to install his son Jacob as King were unsuccessful and the widow of the recently deceased king, Maria Kazimiera Sobieska (also known as Marysieńka) made the decision to move to Rome. In March of 1699 she arrived there – accompanied by 259 courtiers, 30 carriages and carts, some 500 horses and a number of pack-camels! She was soon very active in the cultural life of Rome. Amongst her acquaintances was cardinal Pietro Ottoboni, a famous patron of music. Ottoboni employed Scarlatti, and was an admirer of his music - so much so that he later contributed a Latin epigraph to the composer’s tomb in Naples.

Jerzy Antczak has made a name for himself as long-time Polish neo-prog band Albion's lead guitarist. This is Jerzy's first solo outing. Still very much in the neo mode, there is also some electronic intentions that push his first solo effort into the crossover genre. The music on "Ego, Georgius" is a blend of exotic Eastern sounds, cosmic themes and lots of guitar hooks, riffs, solos and melodies. Aided by some Albion friends as well as Krzystof Wywra on bass from Millenium, the album really shines on multiple levels, very eclectic and cinematographic.

One of the most important albums in the history of Polish jazz. The trio under the leadership of eminent vibraphonist does cross stylistic, acoustic and formal boundaries. Bach-like cadences combine with hot swing, while orient-inspired improvisations with serialism. Classics!

Niniejsza płyta zwraca na siebie uwagę z kilku powodów. Pierwszym jest dobór repertuaru. Kantaty Antonio Cestiego zostały zarejestrowane po raz pierwszy w historii fonografii, co budzi uznanie. Wydawać by się mogło, że najlepiej muzykę dawną wykonują soliści i zespoły zagraniczne. Tymczasem, także u nas w kraju mamy wybitnych specjalistów od tego rodzaju muzyki, a dowodem na ich znakomitą znajomość tematu jest właśnie niniejsza płyta – i to jest drugi powód do zainteresowania się tym nagraniem. Jest jeszcze trzeci, ciekawostka: obie partie wokalne, sopranową i tenorową wykonuje jeden artysta, Jacek Laszczkowski, który w niniejszym nagraniu wystąpił także w duecie z samym sobą. Godna podkreślenia jest łatwość, z jaką przerzuca się on ze swojego podstawowego, tenorowego głosu na śpiew falsetowy, sopranowy.

Anton Stepanovich Arensky and Sergei Eduardovich Bortkiewicz are hardly household names. Arensky’s delicious Piano Trio in D minor continues to keep its place on the fringes of the chamber repertoire, and the Waltz movement from his Suite for two pianos receives an occasional outing; otherwise nothing. Who has even heard of Bortkiewicz other than aficionados of the piano’s dustier repertoire?

The ARC Ensemble (Artists of the Royal Conservatory, Toronto) presents a handful of world premiere recordings on this 2016 release in Chandos' Music in Exile series, focusing on the neglected music of Polish-American composer Jerzy Fitelberg. Once praised by Aaron Copland and Arthur Rubinstein for his cosmopolitan music, and honored with prestigious awards from the Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge Foundation and the Koussevitsky Foundation, Fitelberg was all but forgotten after his death in 1951, due in part because his musical and cultural milieu had been left behind in Europe.

Borodin - Prince Igor - Jerzy Semkow (2017) {2CD Set Warner Classics 0190295900618 rec 1966}
EAC rip (secure mode) | FLAC (tracks)+CUE+LOG -> 777 Mb | MP3 @320 -> 365 Mb
Full Artwork @ 300 dpi (png) -> 116 Mb | 5% repair rar
© 1966, 2017 Parlophone / Warner Classics | 0190295900618
Classical / Opera

Borodin’s splendid epic of Old Russia was recorded in Paris in 1966 with the forces of Sofia National Opera, conducted by Polish-born Jerzy Semkow, a protégé of the legendary Russian maestro Yevgeny Mravinsky. The great Bulgarian bass Boris Christoff, a master of vocal characterisation, takes two roles: Prince Igor’s wicked brother-in-law Prince Galitsky and the surprisingly benign Khan Konchak, who famously commands his people, the Polovtsy, to dance for his noble Russian prisoner of war.

Of the myriad piano concertos composed in the second half of the nineteenth century all but a handful are forgotten. The survivors are played with a regularity that borders on the monotonous—the ubiquitous Tchaikovsky No 1, the Grieg, Saint-Saëns’s Second (in G minor), the two by Brahms and, really, that is just about all there is on offer. Pianists, promoters and record companies play it safe and opt for the familiar. Even a masterpiece can become an unwelcome guest, especially when subjected to an unremarkable outing by yet another indifferent player, as happens so frequently today.